


the final game

by pan_dora



Series: The One With the Steo One-Shots [13]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Haunted Houses, Hauntings, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Ouija Board, Post-Canon, Steo, Stiles/Theo - Freeform, Tumblr Prompt, dialogue prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:47:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25096336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pan_dora/pseuds/pan_dora
Summary: “You are the crown prince of theatrics.” Stiles frees himself and crouches down to lift the doormat. Yes , key! “Now stop being such a Debbie-downer. Everything’s going to be fine.” For someone who always advocates violence as a first response, Theo’s really determined to be the sensible one in their relationship every single time Stiles has an idea that may or may not result in danger. How risky can a supposedly haunted Airbnb really be? They both know this is just an advertisement so the owner can top up his yacht.
Relationships: Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski
Series: The One With the Steo One-Shots [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1120290
Comments: 9
Kudos: 58





	the final game

**Author's Note:**

> This took me forever. I'm so, so, sorry, nonnie. 
> 
> The prompt I've received was:  
> "We’re in an abandoned lodge in the middle of nowhere. Sure, you’re totally right, nothing bad could ever happen here."

“A little heads-up,” Theo says, slamming the driver’s door shut, “if we get killed, I’ll break up with you.” 

Stiles rolls his eyes. “We both know that’s a big fat fucking lie.” Slinging his backpack over his shoulders, he turns to the cabin he’s planning to inhabit for the weekend. “Being the possessive little shithead that you are, you’re probably already scheming how to lock me down for all eternity.” It looks smaller than it did on the website. It’s also in desperate need of a renovation. Or eight. Hopefully, the owner didn’t forget to put the key under the doormat. Because the other option was leaving the door unlocked for them, and although Stiles is ready to deal with a demon, he’s not ready to find himself face to face with a knife-wielding maniac at the back of beyond in the middle of the night. Theo might be supernatural but he’s a heavy sleeper. A couple of weeks ago, Stiles had to kick him five times until he finally got a response. Come to think of it, maybe he ignored him. 

The car beeps, and Theo pushes his keys into the pocket of his jacket. “Not if you keep dragging me into bullshit like this for the rest of our lives.”  As if he doesn't enjoy their little trips. They both know Theo wouldn't be here if he  _ really _ didn't want to. Sure, Stiles can be convincing, doesn't mean Theo lets him get away with everything. He’s playing favourites, but he does draw a line. 

Sometimes. 

A twig snaps underneath his right foot when Stiles marches towards the building. “Oh, come on. It looks charming.” He doesn’t know what’s worse - the door that’s not even going to keep the wind outside if that forecasted storm does come around or the amount of money he paid for the sad excuse of a cabin that’s probably held together by whatever supernatural entity has nothing better to do than terrorise humans. 

“It’s haunted,” Theo announces, scowling down at the step creaking under his foot. 

Stiles grins and makes an all-encompassing gesture towards the front door. “Nothing bad is going to happen.”

“We’re in an abandoned lodge in the middle of nowhere. Sure, you’re totally right,  _ nothing _ bad could ever happen here.” Theo grabs his arm before Stiles gets even close to the door. What does he think is going to happen? He won’t be cursed just because he touches the fucking doorknob. 

Probably. 

“You are the crown prince of theatrics.” Stiles frees himself and crouches down to lift the doormat.  _ Yes _ , key! “Now stop being such a Debbie-downer. Everything’s going to be fine.” For someone who always advocates violence as a first response, Theo’s really determined to be the sensible one in their relationship every single time Stiles has an idea that may or may not result in danger. How risky can a supposedly haunted Airbnb really be? They both know this is just an advertisement so the owner can top up his yacht. 

But as long as there’s even a one-percent chance of this being true - and some of the reports are pretty damn convincing - Stiles wants to check it out. He knows how to deal with hauntings and curses and whatnot. A random couple who thinks this is nothing but a joke might get in serious danger. 

Theo lets out the breath of a long-suffering person. “Need I remind you the last time you dragged me to a haunted place?” Of course, he’s bringing that up again. “We had to burn a painting and almost set the whole place on fire.” The painting was a child’s first attempt at drawing - in his defence, nobody could’ve expected that a piece of watercolour-splattered paper was haunted by the kid’s vengeful spirit - and the whole place was a single curtain smouldering. They managed to put it out before it even really caught on fire. 

“That was an accident,” Stiles says, pushing the door open. It creaks ominously, but nothing jumps out at him. Most likely because there’s barely anything in the room aside from a couch on the opposite end of the wall, a dresser to their left with a mirror hanging above it, and a bed in the middle of the room. Good thing he brought his laptop. Seeing that they have WiFi - however  _ that _ works, they’re in the middle of the woods - they can at least watch a movie. So, there’s that. 

Theo, unable to suppress his guard dog mentality, pushes past Stiles and enters the cabin first. “You’re an accident,” he mutters, throwing his backpack onto the bed. A cloud of dust rises into the air, and Theo turns around to glare at him. 

Stiles really doesn’t know what he expected. Room service? Although he could’ve sworn he read something about a kitchenette somewhere. “Ok, look at it from the bright side,” he says, closing the door behind him with a smirk, “we’re all by ourselves. No Josh who hysterically cries over Algebra, or Dad who threatens you with a gun every five seconds.” They both know he’d never shoot Theo, but it’s mildly disconcerting either way. 

Crossing his arms, Theo continues to stare at him with his negative attitude. “In exchange, we have a malevolent spirit as our roommate.”

“You're being overdramatic.” 

“Overdramatic?” Theo drops onto the bed like a dead weight. His shirt hitches up deliciously, revealing the hem of his boxers as well as an inch of slightly tanned skin. He coughs, probably regretting his decision, then props himself up onto his elbows. “I’m just not too into the idea of being haunted.” 

Stiles sighs. “I didn’t know you’re such a scaredy-cat.” 

“What the hell did you just call me?” 

With a smirk, Stiles tosses his backpack to the ground and saunters to the bed. “You clearly heard what I said.”

Theo’s brows climb higher. The treacherous twitch of his lips makes it hard to take him seriously. “And you clearly don’t want to take the risk of repeating yourself.” 

Stiles huffs out a breath. They probably should take a look around first, get a feeling for the place and all that jazz - but it’s hard to concentrate on anything else when Theo is looking like that. Really,  _ really _ hard. “You don’t have to worry,” he says, sitting down on his thighs, “I won’t make a deal with a demon.” At least not purposefully, but, if the necessity arises, he’s not going to make any promises. 

Theo looks him straight in the eye. “You are exactly the type of person who’d accidentally sell his soul to the devil."

“That-” Stiles closes his mouth and squints at Theo. “Okay…  _ maybe _ you’re not completely wrong.” There has been that funny incident with the witches trying to summon some kind of demon from the underworld. It's not Stiles' fault that weird little gnome decided it would rather follow him than those who dragged it into their world. It was cute. Stiles is still sad they had to banish it. The little bugger might have been useful. 

Theo wraps his arms around him with a chuckle. "I don't really have to worry about you," he says, pressing his mouth against his throat for a moment. "Any demon would annul every contract within a week because you are a fucking nuisance."

Stiles scrunches up his nose. "Doesn't make you love me any less."

"It doesn't make you any less annoying either."  _ Wow _ , rude. Very rude. Abysmally rude. But Theo runs a hand up to his back, buries his fingers in the strands of his hair, and kisses him. Soft. Just lips brushing against his lips. A test. A tease. Stiles cups his neck with both hands, tilting Theo’s head up with his thumbs. He can feel his mouth quirk into a smirk mere moments before teeth bite down on his bottom lip. Just for a second, then Theo runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

Stiles melts against him, opens his mouth, silently demanding more,  _ so much more _ . Theo is the only person who manages to turn him into pudding in his hands. Fingers dance along the hem of his shirt, slip underneath the warm fabric at the same time as his tongue slips past his parted lips. He shouldn't be so easy, but  _ fucking hell _ , he can't help it. 

Theo pulls back just enough that he's able to talk, "we should probably make sure this thing is storm proof." 

Groaning, Stiles hides his face in the crook of Theo's neck. He doesn't want to get up. Ghost hunting really doesn't sound too appealing any longer, now that he has Theo all to himself. But he's right. The storm that’s coming their way is not the kind you should be in the middle of the woods for. Wind. Thunder and lightning. Rain. Stiles isn’t exactly the biggest fan of thunderstorms. Not even in the slightest. Theo’s going to mock him forever; afraid of a thunderstorm, ready to kick a demon’s butt - welcome to Stiles’ world. He certainly has his priorities straight. 

After pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear, Theo throws him off his lap and onto the bed. 

“Rude,” Stiles informs him with a scowl, but Theo only flips him off and walks towards the front door. That, most likely, will be their biggest problem for the night. If that thing rattles as much as Stiles guesses it will do, there won't be much sleep to be had tonight. Luckily, he has other ideas. 

With a sigh, he falls back into the pillows, forgetting the dust and most certainly not expecting the edge of something hard slamming into his spine. He yelps and sits back up again, trying to reach his poor abused spine with a hand.  _ Fucking-  _ "ow."

"How," Theo asks, turning around with an exasperated sigh, "do you manage to hurt yourself sitting on a bed?" There's no need to make it sound like he's a human disaster. 

Stiles frowns. "There's something underneath the pillows." Something that clearly has it out for him. Rolling onto his stomach, he pushes himself up onto one elbow and yanks the pillow away. His eyes widen. “ _ Oh _ ,” he breathes, excitement coursing through him. “This is amazing.” Scratch that. It’s  _ better _ than amazing. 

Scrambling into a cross-legged position, Stiles pulls an Ouija game onto his lap. Without further ado, he opens it and tosses the lid off the bed to grab the planchette. It’s heavy and looks ancient, with little fissures in the wood and cracked glass in the middle of the planchette. Judging by the colourful packaging, Stiles expected something made out of plastic. 

“Oh, no,” Theo says, crossing the room immediately. “No.  _ No _ . Put that down.” He reaches for the planchette which Stiles moves quickly out of reach. “Give that-  _ Stiles _ .” Werewolf strength is nothing against longer limbs. At least until Theo decides that he really wants this planchette. Flashing his eyes - something he so often does when being fed up with what he calls stupidly reckless behaviour - Theo grabs the board instead. 

Stiles quirks his brow with a scoff. “You don’t  _ really  _ think these things work, do you?” His boyfriend’s superstitious behaviour is getting ridiculous. Last time they went to the mall with the pack, Theo prevented him from walking underneath a ladder. It’s hard to judge if he truly is that superstitious or if his protective streak is without limits when it comes to Stiles. Sometimes it makes him feel as if he’s some sort of tiny toddler unable to survive on his own. 

“The last time you said that Bloody Mary tried to pull us through a mirror.” Well, she technically wanted to scratch out their eyes and then steal their souls, but he’s probably not making a good argument by correcting Theo.

He waves his hand around. “This is different,” Stiles explains, turning the planchette around in his hand. “When you play your brain may unconsciously make up answers to your questions. It’s called the ideomotor effect.” 

“I think it’s called ‘Don’t tempt fate, you fucking idiot’.” Do people overhearing them think they’re an actual couple? Because sometimes they don’t exactly act the part. Other times, however, they make up more than enough for it. 

Stiles tosses the planchette in the air, fails to catch it, but hauls it close again before Theo can even move a muscle. “It’s like flinching in your sleep.” 

“I know what the ideomotor effect is,” Theo replies, motioning for Stiles to give up the planchette. “I’m also highly aware of what the dissociative identity effect is because I happen to listen even when you go off at a tangent.” 

It  _ sounds _ like a hidden insult, Theo is good with backhanded compliments, yet Stiles grins broadly. Although granted, having a smart partner can be infuriating, he enjoys it much, much more. Intelligence is really fucking attractive and kind of necessary. He can't simply bullshit his way out of stuff. Theo pays attention to detail. Running him in circles is not impossible, but it involves a lot more planning. He has an easier time with Scott. He has a much, much harder time with Lydia. She's the nightmare mode in every video game. One hit and you're done for. 

"Okay, but this is different," Stiles says, wincing at his weak attempt at convincing his boyfriend.

Theo gestures briefly.  _ Elaborate _ , the slow circle his hand draws in the air orders,  _ please, I'm all ears _ . Once he has caught a scent of Stiles trying to bullshit him, there's nothing he can do to throw him off. 

_ Shit _ . Stiles bites the inside of his cheek, gaze darting briefly to the board then back up to Theo. "Well," he says, pressing his tongue against his upper lip and watching Theo's brows climb high and higher, "it is different in so far that you don't control the mirror."

Theo crosses his arms. "That's what the dissociative identity effect says. The brain's facial-recognition misfires. But Bloody Mary still tried to kill us."

"Yeah but-"

"Both times, science tries to explain the phenomenon away by saying your brain either misfires or makes shit up," Theo continues sternly and narrows his eyes. Speaking negatively about science must kill him. "But they were wrong about Bloody Mary. That's-" he waves the Ouija board through the air "-a fifty/fifty chance we're not risking."

"It's sexy when you talk about yourself in the plural majestatis," Stiles says, wiggling his brows. The time to distract Theo with anything even remotely suggestive has long passed, but it can't hurt to try it regardless. 

When they started dating, his friends weren't exactly ecstatic, especially Scott warned him about Theo possibly dragging him down the wrong path. Malia hasn't spoken to him since, so he can only assume she's not particularly happy about the development. Lydia, albeit ready to give Theo the benefit of the doubt, reminded Stiles to be careful. His dad told him that perhaps he would be a good influence on Theo. Funny story, though, Theo is  _ not  _ the bad influence in their relationship. It's Stiles who constantly drags him into shit, and Theo accompanying him dutifully is only a testament to how much he loves him. 

Stiles is going to make it up to him soon.

But not now.

"Okay, how about-"

" _ No _ ," Theo insists.

Stiles  _ hates _ when he does that. "You don't even know what I wanted to say."

Theo smiles, but it's exhausted and almost a little bitter. "We are not going to test it and say goodbye the moment the planchette moves." That  _ asshole _ . Can chimeras read minds? Is that a thing? The guy constantly knows what's going through his head. Either Stiles is painfully predictable,  _ or _ Theo is a bigger creep than previously anticipated. 

Pouting, Stiles tosses the planchette back on the box. " _ Fine _ . Be a spoilsport."

"This has nothing to do with being a spoilsport, babe." Theo grabs the box and looks a little surprised at how easily Stiles lets him, but he knows when he's lost, okay? Even he understands that sometimes he has to call quits and try another day. Maybe he can convince Theo to play it when they're not in the middle of nowhere.  _ Huh _ . He'll keep that in mind. "I'm going to burn that, all right? Please, just-" he gestures with his hand to where Stiles sits "-stay there. Don't move. No exploring until I'm back." 

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles mutters, crossing his arms. Sometimes he forgets how utterly boring Theo can be when it comes to things that may or may not be a bit risky. 

The door clicks shut behind Theo, and Stiles plops onto his back with a sigh. Not that he wants to complain much, but Theo was a lot more fun before they got together. He did so much shit just to be close to him. He still does a lot of shit, but now it's so Stiles doesn't accidentally do something that'll end up killing him. Which is  _ fair _ . Still-

Stiles blinks and pushes himself onto his elbows, craning his neck for a better view. Is that what he thinks it is? He squints.  _ Yes _ . There's the little metal plate with a tiny hook. It looks as if someone painted it over. But paint only lasts for so long. Stiles grins. This house has an attic. Nobody ever said this house has an attic.  _ Brilliant _ . Now he just needs to figure out how to open this thing. If he gets on his tiptoes on the very edge of the bed he might be able to reach it. 

Throwing pillows onto the ground to prepare for the worst - listen, Theo is overprotective, but it's not as if his worry comes from nothing - and tests his footing carefully. The wood holds. So, that's something. Now, he just needs to reach the small hook. Placing one hand on the ceiling, Stiles stands on his tiptoes and leans forward. The tips of his fingers grace the metal.  _ Yes _ . He can do that. Just an inch. He's missing just an- his fingers close around the hook.  _ Yes _ . 

Stiles tugs at it and immediately loses his grip.  _ Fuck.  _ He needs more leverage. Maybe something he can use as a-

The door slams shut with a bang. “What the  _ hell _ are you doing?”

Flailing about, Stiles manages to save himself and falls back onto the bed. "Uh-" one glance at Theo reveals that he is furious. His boyfriend rarely looks at him and works his jaw as if he's suppressing the urge to maim him. 

"Five minutes," Theo says, gesturing wildly towards the door, "I'm gone five minutes and you-" his knuckles turn white as he clenches his fist. His biceps probably shouldn't be as distracting as they are right now. "I asked you to wait. It's the  _ one  _ thing I asked you to do and you're not listening." This is not great. Not at all. 

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry isn't going to help me when you're dead," Theo remarks sharply and crosses the room. His shoulders are rigid, his blue eyes hard. "Every fucking time I turn around, I find you next to something that can kill you." Theo works his fingers through his hair. 

It is probably not the best idea to tell him that an attic door won't kill him. Stiles is most definitely missing some kind of point. Theo worries about him. That's fair. Maybe he is overreacting. Maybe Stiles should be more careful. He swallows and gets to his feet. "I'm…"

"Sorry?" Theo keeps staring at him, exhaustion and anger making him look older than he is. During times like this, all the shit the Dread Doctors put him through is visible all at once - and Stiles hates it. He hates it with a passion. When he sees Theo like that, he wants to kill these punks all over again, wants to smooth out the lines ruining Theo’s pretty face, and hold him close until everything is okay again. But the thing is,  _ Stiles _ is the cause of this. Not a nightmare, not the Dread Doctors.  _ Stiles _ . "Doesn't mean much if you keep doing the same shit all over again." Theo's words are underlined by the growl of thunder in the not so far distance. 

They both turn around and look out the window. Since the house is on a clearing, nothing obscures the view of the lightning bolt zapping over the sky. 

Theo reaches for his hand. Stiles squeezes it tightly. They have never really fought. They never had an argument either of them lost any sleep over, most likely because they’re constantly bickering anyway. Stiles’ reckless curiosity is the only thing pissing Theo off to an extent that can be considered serious, and sometimes, when one of their trips is over, Theo snaps at him. Depending on the severity, it can take up to an hour. Stiles lets him vent, gives him the time and space to get everything off his chest, and when that’s done, Stiles apologises. 

Then does it all over again. 

Hearing that Theo knows it; that he’s aware of this pattern is like a slap in the face. Stiles didn’t know. He didn’t realise that he has been doing this. He’s aware that he’s been a bit too fixated on the whole supernatural business in the last few weeks. Natalie had to talk to his dad because teachers were noticing Stiles’ inattention. They worry his grades will suffer if he keeps being distracted during classes. His dad asked him to focus on school as long as there’s no supernatural threat in their town, but Stiles has trouble returning to his normal, very unsupernatural life. 

That, however, he has realised, and with spring recess not too far away, Stiles made a plan. He lets go of Theo’s hand and reaches for his backpack. “I got something for you,” he says quietly, rummaging through its contents in a mild panic. He put it in. He distinctly remembers that he did. 

"Is it a haunted object?" Theo asks, crossing his arms. 

Stiles purses his lips. "No," he replies without any heat and finally produces the envelope he's been looking for.  _ Thank god _ . "I got you this." The relief and nervous energy forces him to sit down on the edge of the bed. 

Theo squints at it before taking it in his hands pretending he just received a letter bomb. He’s such an overdramatic fucker sometimes. "Is this a howler?" 

" _ No _ ," Stiles says, gesturing to the envelope, "just open it, you closet nerd."

After tapping the paper with his finger for a few heartbeats, Theo follows the instruction, sitting down next to him. As he studies the plane tickets, the anticipated excitement doesn’t come. Instead, Theo draws his eyebrows together, and when he looks up, a smile is nowhere near his lips.  _ Great _ . Too soon? It’s too soon, isn’t it? “Are we hunting Dracula?”

Stiles blinks. “ _ What _ ?”

Rolling his eyes, Theo pushes the tickets back into the envelope. “I don’t need you wasting your money on this shit.” 

“Dude,” Stiles breathes, poking his boyfriend’s forehead with a chuckle, “Dracula lived in Transilvania.” 

Theo curls his lips. 

“That’s in Romania, you dimwit. How did you pass Geography?” 

“Europe has a lot of countries, okay?” Theo scrunches up his nose as if he’d smelled something bad and crosses his arms again like a petulant toddler. That’s adorable, but not particularly helpful. He keeps pouting, even as Stiles wraps his arms around his shoulders and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Fine,” Theo mutters, “what are we hunting in Poland?”

With a sigh, Stiles lets go of his boyfriend. Sure, he deserves the treatment. He deserves to be second-guessed, it’s still kind of a bummer that the only connection Theo makes to Poland is a supernatural creature they could be hunting instead of what’s actually important. “You’re hunting,” he mutters, scratching the side of his nose with his index finger, “mostly after Bacia’s approval. She’s fiercely protective of me. Dziadek already loves you. I have no idea why.”

Theo doesn’t immediately respond. Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles sees him pull out the ticket again. He stares at it, twists, and turns it as if he’s not sure whether he’s hallucinating the whole thing. Fucking hell, is it  _ that  _ bad with him? "Your grandparents wanna meet me?" Theo asks very slowly, still staring at the ticket in amazement. “Why do your grandparents want to meet me?” 

Stiles squints. “Because we’re dating?” Is he missing something? He really has the feeling that he’s missing something. 

“They  _ know  _ about me?” 

Slowly but surely, Stiles has the strange feeling he ended up in an alternative universe. The guy has zero trouble to mark him up and show him around and make sure people can see they are in a very committed relationship, but the fact that Stiles’ grandparents know they’re dating somehow throws him for a loop. What a weirdo. "Of course, they know," he says, unable to hide the grin spreading on his lips, "they asked me, and I told them."

Theo licks his lips. "Huh."

"Huh?"

"How did they react?" 

Stiles quirks a brow. "To?"

"To you dating a guy."

“I know you think it’s sappy, but they’re happy as long as I am. Pretty sure they wouldn't even mind your furry problem," Stiles replies, pulling his shoulders up for a slow shrug. Despite their old age, his grandparents were the first people who learned that Stiles is bisexual. For some reason, they're easier to talk to than the people he has to live with. They were the first to learn about Theo, which was solely because Stiles needed to tell someone, and they were perfect seeing they have not a single clue of the shitstorm Theo caused.

"Do they know about Malia?"

Stiles squirms a little. "No." They're entering dangerous territory. 

Theo tosses the envelope on the nightstand and pulls Stiles closer by the collar of his shirt. "Why not?" A grin tugs on his lips; one that makes Stiles want to kiss and punch him at the same time.

He runs his fingers through Theo’s hair instead. “You want me to tell them?”

Theo kisses him, and Stiles doesn’t waste a second. Heat shoots through his veins like a lightning strike. He buries his fingers in the short strands of his hair, bites his bottom lip when Theo grabs his ass and pulls him on his lap.  _ Perfect _ , this is much more enjoyable than whatever happened a few minutes ago. On any other day, Stiles would’ve probably reprimanded Theo about his slightly possessive streak, about this refusal to acknowledge there have been other people before him - but right now he’s too occupied with everything else going on that he’s willing to drop the topic. 

It doesn’t take long for their shirts to hit the dusty ground, for hot skin to press against hot skin. Although they’ve been dating for about half a year, they weren’t intimate as often as they would’ve liked to be. Mostly because neither lives alone. His dad must have a sixth sense for this shit. With impeccable timing, he manages to always knock on his door whenever Theo and Stiles decide to have some fun. When they’re at Theo’s place, either Josh or Tracy somehow manage to ruin the mood. While Tracy is doing that intentionally, Josh has continuous school-related breakdowns. Now, that he can’t be high all the time, he decided that having a degree is a good idea. It’s hard to get in the mood while hearing hysterical sobbing through the wall. 

But now, they’re alone. 

Completely  _ fucking _ alone. 

And Stiles intends to use that. 

Theo, however, is faster. He easily flips them around and pulls Stiles completely onto the bed. Sliding his right leg between his thighs, Theo leans over him with a downright animalistic grin on his lips. He kisses Stiles’ shoulder, probably fully aware of the chaotic heat he just elicited with this bit of rough handling - that Theo figured out how much he enjoys being manhandled a week into their relationship is simultaneously the best and worst thing that could’ve happened. 

“I want to be the only one,” he says in a low voice, a whisper but too loud, a growl but not quite. His fingers dance along the waistband of Stiles’ pants. The grin turns mischievous, yet the glint in his eyes tells him Theo means every single word. “I intend to stay the only one.” And he certainly intends to ruin him for everyone else. 

Theo knows exactly which buttons to push, which parts of his body to pay attention to the most. He leaves hickeys wherever he wants to, marks him for the world to see, makes him his territory. With his fingers inside of him, his lips wrapped around his dick, Theo gave him almost everything Stiles' wants. But it's not enough. It's never enough until Theo sinks into him and fucks him with slow but hard thrusts. Harder than usual. The anger of their conversation bubbles to the surface. He fucks him, and he holds him. He loves him, and he breaks him until Stiles' brain is muddy, and everything he can think about is Theo.

Theo 

_ Theo _ .

Stiles startles awake because of  _ something _ . He doesn’t know what caused it. The thunderstorm has calmed down to a quiet rumble in the distance. Rain remains to slam against the windows, however, that’s not what woke him up. It’s something else. Something that causes dread to pool in his stomach. He swallows drily, noticing the wrongness of the situation more and more. 

With trembling fingers, Stiles reaches behind him, finding Theo’s warm body close to him. It calms his nerves a bit. Maybe he had a weird dream. Maybe he just- no. It’s not a dream. Someone is staring at him. He can feel their gaze burying in the back of his head. A cold shudder runs down his spine. Stiles tries his best to ignore the instinct to pull his blanket over his head and squeeze his eyes shut. Someone is  _ inside _ this cabin, and there’s no way a blanket will protect him. Stiles grew up with horror stories because he read police reports. He continues to live a horror story. At one point, he grew out of hiding under his blanket. 

Stiles nudges Theo with his foot, trying to wake him up without causing much of a scene. Then again, if Theo is still  _ sleeping _ there’s no way someone can be in here with them. His stomach rolls. Stiles takes a deep breath and reaches for his nightstand, fumbling for the light switch. Once he finds it, Stiles curls his fingers around it and takes another deep breath.  _ One, two- _ he flicks the light on before he can count to three and sits up. 

The room is empty. 

Stiles huffs out a breath. He should know better than to trust himself after having just woken up. That's never a good thing. His mind goes to dark places when he sleeps even if he doesn't always remember it. Shaking his head, Stiles sinks back into the covers and closes his eyes. He's not even tired anymore, and he's really not a fan of that. Although Theo told him he could wake him up whenever Stiles feels bad doing so. Neither of them is great with sleep, and the last thing he wants to do is taking that away from Theo. Surely he can keep himself busy until his boyfriend wakes up. 

This cabin in the middle of nowhere has Wi-Fi after all, and he brought his laptop. 

With a sigh, Stiles rolls onto his side and reaches for his backpack. That's when he sees it. The old wooden planchette sits on top of his backpack, its glass innocently twinkling in the light of the nightlamp. That's- that thing shouldn't be here. Why is it here?  _ How  _ is it here? Theo burnt it. He destroyed it. He-

The sensation of someone staring at him returns. Stiles goes cold all over, shuddering again, and squeezes his eyes shut. Okay. He knows what he has to do. Taking a deep breath, Stiles opens his eyes and grabs the planchette. There's a part of him that keeps on reminding him this is nothing more than a children's game. He won't see anything when he looks through the planchette, but he still should make sure. Stiles licks his dry lips then raises the planchette to his face.

A little girl is sitting right in front of him, pale and bloody, half her face missing. 

Stiles jolts away from her with a yelp, flying off the bed. 

"Stiles?" Theo is awake and alert within a second. "Stiles!" Almost immediately, he’s next to him, arms tightly wrapped around his shoulders and waist. "It's just a dream," Theo whispers, pressing his lips to his temple. "It's-"

"It's not a dream," Stiles whispers, heart hammering against his chest. "There's a girl here with us." A dead girl. A ghost.

Theo pulls away. "Babe-"

"No, Theo," he interrupts him, knowing exactly what he plans on saying. There can't be anybody here because his supernatural senses don't pick anything up aside from themselves. "I saw her," he insists before Theo has even the chance to voice his doubts. "Through the planchette. Theo, I-"

"The planchette?" Theo echoes and his tone is a lot sharper than only seconds before. "Did you get it back?" He reaches for the planchette on the bed, knuckles white around.

Stiles brushes Theo's hand off. "I thought you burnt it." 

"I was going to until I saw you trying to break your neck getting into the attic!"

Narrowing his eyes, Stiles crosses his arms. "I did  _ not  _ go outside and grab the fucking planchette," he tells him in a low voice. "You really think I would after what you told me last night?" 

Theo’s expression softens almost immediately. "No. No, you wouldn't." While Stiles might be a reckless idiot, he isn't a total dick. "That still doesn't explain how this thing got in here."

"She did it." Stiles insists, pointing to the bed.

Theo opens and closes his mouth for a few seconds then he cups Stiles’ neck with one hand. "Have you been sleepwalking again?" His expression grows concerned, and while that's not an impossible option, Stiles couldn't have been outside. It's still  _ raining _ . He would've been wet, but somehow, his dear boyfriend entirely misses that fact.

" _ Theo _ ," Stiles says, exasperatedly slapping away his hand again, and grabs his shoulder. "There's the ghost of an approximately seven-year-old girl with half a face in this room." He grabs the planchette, but Theo yanks it out of his hand immediately, concern yielding anger. "Look through it. Look  _ through _ it. I’m not making this shit up.” 

Drawing his eyebrows together, Theo contemplates him for a few seconds. He doesn’t look convinced, and although Stiles doesn’t blame him, it is infuriating that after everything people still aren’t taking his word for granted. Sure, there have been times when he was overreacting, and anything related to the Ouija board isn’t exactly the strongest argument  _ for _ the supernatural considering all the bullshit one can find on the internet.

_ Still _ . 

After a moment, Theo sighs and raises the planchette to his eyes. Silence settles between them, and Stiles knows the answer before Theo lowers the planchette again. It’s obvious in the slight curls of his lips, the worry flickering in his blue eyes.

“I saw a little girl.”

Theo places the planchette on the bed. “I don’t doubt that,” he says very carefully. His next words are more than predictable, “but maybe you haven’t been fully awake when it happened.”

Of course.  _ Of fucking course _ . Stiles really isn’t surprised about Theo trying to find a very unsupernatural explanation for something very supernatural. Under different circumstances, Stiles might’ve even fallen for it, or rather, might’ve accepted it as a potential explanation. However, there is one glaring flaw in Theo’s little theory. “How did the planchette get back in?” 

Working his jaw, Theo stares at the planchette for a few moments. "I don't know," he mutters, getting to his feet without looking at Stiles again. Instead, he surveys the room then grinds his teeth. "It's not just the planchette." His shoulders are a rigid line as he curls his hands into fists.

Stiles pushes himself to his feet as well, spotting the Ouija board sitting innocently on the doormat. “Something wants to talk.” 

“No.”

“What if it’s the little girl?”

“ _ Stiles _ ,” Theo warns.

But he remains persistent. “What if she needs help?” 

A moment of silence passes. With a sigh, Theo rolls his eyes. Stiles tries not to fistbump the air. “The moment something weird’s going on, we stop.”

There aren’t as many potential security measures they can take, but it’s most likely just a little girl - what’s the worst that can happen, right? They’ve settled back onto the bed, facing each other. When Theo places the planchette on the board, he does it with one of the deepest scowls Stiles has ever seen on his face. Regardless, they both place a finger on the wooden triangle. 

Stiles looks up and at Theo, smiling a little. Despite everything, his smile is reciprocated - fond even if exhausted. It’s good to know that Theo will always be working alongside him no matter how annoyed he is at times. Theo’s unending loyalty is something Stiles values the most. The words  _ I love you  _ almost rolled off his tongue, but now isn’t the time to reassure Theo. It’s only going to ignite a spark of nervous energy, a certain sense of doom, of something bad to come. Even though he’s doubtful when it comes to the Ouija board, Stiles is very aware that any energy that could be considered bad is nothing to start a session with. 

“Okay,” Stiles says, taking a deep breath. “Is anybody here with us?” 

Theo purses his lips. Stiles bites down on his own. He doesn’t know what he wants to happen. A response? Silence? Swallowing, Stiles bounces his leg a little. He glances at Theo who stares at the board with narrow eyes. It’s not hard to figure out what he’ll hope is going to happen.

The planchette moves to yes. 

Theo grinds his teeth. It says a lot that neither of them asks if the other is bullshitting them. They both know they’d never do something like that. They don’t fuck around with the supernatural. It’s way too dangerous to do that, and as much as they aren’t afraid of confrontation, they will not prank each other nor are they intending to piss an entity off. It’s the least they can do before banishing them to the underworld - or wherever they go back to. 

Stiles clears his throat. “Are you the little girl I saw through the planchette?” 

For a second, the planchette doesn’t move. Then it shifts away from yes and back again. 

Stiles opens his mouth, shakes his head, and closes it again. He knows the rules of this game. Never ask ‘ _ How did you die _ ?’ as to not piss the ghost off. To be fair, it makes sense. Nobody wants to talk about how they’ve died. Stiles bites his bottom lip, studying Theo’s tense shoulders for a second. “How old are you?” he asks instead, hoping that if he can make the ghost feel comfortable, it’ll tell them whatever they need to know. 

The planchette crawls across the board until it settles on the number three. 

_ What _ ? Stiles draws his eyebrows together, trying to ignore the anxiety crawling up his spine. That’s not correct, right? Although he saw the girl only for the flicker of a second, she looked like a little girl, not a toddler. Stiles bites his bottom lip, glances at Theo then around the room. 

“Stiles?” Theo asks, raising his brows. 

He shakes his head. “No, how old were you when you died?” The question definitely toes the line of being disrespectful, but perhaps the ghost simply misunderstood his first one. Maybe it thought he wanted to know how long it’s dead. It’s possible, even though the dread pooling in Stiles’ stomach tells a whole other story. 

The planchette doesn’t move immediately, almost as if the ghost noticed the change of energy surrounding Stiles. Eventually, however, it shifts to the number four. 

Stiles presses his lips in a thin line and raises his free hand, holding up a single finger. One more question, just  _ one more _ to make absolutely sure the thing they’re talking to isn’t what he thinks it is. “What do you want?” 

This time, the planchette flies over the board. It stops briefly on the M then zips over to the A, back to the M, and back to the A. 

_ Please, don’t _ . 

Stiles holds his breath, hoping against all odds that the planchette will stop there, that it is just a little dead girl looking for his mother although everything points in a different direction. If they manage to catch  _ the _ Ouija board demon the first time they’re using one, Theo is going to lose it. 

“Ma-” Theo begins, but Stiles stops him mid-word, pressing his free hand over his mouth. Not saying anything, he simply shakes his head. At the same time, the planchette moves back to M again. That’s what it keeps doing. M, A. M, A. M, A. M. A. Without pause. Without hesitation. 

“Goodbye,” Stiles says, pulling his hand from Theo’s mouth. 

The planchette doesn’t stop moving. 

“I said goodbye,” he repeats firmer this time. 

It still doesn’t stop. Something moves in his peripheral vision. This time, Stiles isn’t the only one who saw it. Theo whips his head around, his finger almost slipping from the planchette as he does. In the last second, Stiles grabs his wrist to keep it from happening. They can't make a mistake right now. The moment they’ve said goodbye, they’ll have to break the Ouija board in seven pieces and burn it. 

_ Fuck _ . they should probably burn the whole house down with it. If Stiles could see a little girl before they even opened the channel, this thing has infected the whole place, and once it gets strong enough. It can do real damage without the board. Destroying the cabin might be the only way to protect others. 

“I said  _ goodbye _ .”

The planchette finally stops but refuses to move to goodbye on its own. Lights flicker. Theo’s phone goes off on the nightstand. 

Oh, this is really bad.

“Goodbye,” Theo says in a low growl.

Something laughed.

“Goodbye!” Stiles yells, dragging the planchette down to the word by himself. His fingers are still curled tightly around Theo’s wrist, but he doesn’t have to ask him for his help. The second he understands what’s happening, it becomes a hell of a lot easier to move the planchette. Still, Stiles keeps his hold on Theo until he’s letting go of the planchette himself. 

Just in case. 

Something slams against the front door and Stiles jumps. His heart hammers against his chest. “Break it,” he says, pushing the board in Theo’s direction. “You have to break it seven times. Holy number. Salt would be great, but this should be enough.  _ Fuck.  _ Fucking  _ fuck _ .” Stiles hates being right. He really does. Sure, it could be something else pretending to be Zozo, but Stiles isn’t going to take that risk. 

Theo doesn’t ask any follow-up questions. Without hesitation, he gets off the bed and grabs the board, breaking it in two. 

Dropping the planchette, Stiles scrambles off the bed and grabs his backpack. He throws in everything in the near vicinity. Thankfully, they haven’t thrown around their clothes this time and instead dropped everything in front of the bed like normal people. That makes this a lot easier. 

A lightbulb explodes. Stiles yelps, ducking his head as the world darkens significantly on his side of the bed. Okay, someone really isn’t at all happy about what they’re doing. Not that they’re doing much. To be perfectly honest, breaking the board and burning it only stops it from following them home. What comes after is what’s most definitely going to really piss it off. 

Stiles throws his backpack over his shoulder and rushes to the other side of the bed. Theo is tossing the remaining pieces of the board onto the bed. Before he can grab his backpack, Stiles yanks it off the floor and pulls out a bottle of hairspray. He laughed at Theo when he saw him take it with him earlier today, now he’s exceptionally grateful that he did. Hairspray is an exceptional fire accelerant if it needs to be.

“Lighter,” he says, but Theo rips the bottle out of his hand and presses the car keys in his hand instead. 

The second lightbulb explodes, sending little shards everywhere. 

“Wait in the car.” 

“Theo-”

“ _ Wait in the car _ !” Theo repeats, showing him towards the door. 

Stiles stumbles backwards, flailing as he tries to keep his balance from failing him completely. The front door helps him from falling, but the knob in his lower back makes the whole process a lot more painful. Again, he could’ve sworn to see a shadow creeping around in his peripheral vision while he is watching Theo flicking open his lighter. He fumbles with the doorknob for a few seconds, knowing better than to test Theo’s patience, and flings the door open. 

The rain is unforgivingly cold, and Stiles is instantly reminded that he’s neither wearing shoes nor clothes aside from boxershorts. He almost falls down the slippery stairs. Holding onto the railing would’ve probably been helpful, but the last thing he needs is a splinter or a rusty nail cutting his hand open. He’s not sure his tetanus shot is up to date, and he really doesn’t want to risk it. 

Flames light up the dark window of the cabin as Stiles sprints across the grass. The car beeps, an unnaturally loud sound in the silence, and rips the door open, throwing in his backpack. He doesn’t get in. Instead, he turns around again, trying to see Theo. His chest constricts when he doesn’t immediately spot him. Before Stiles could even think about rushing back, however, his boyfriend bursts out of the door and vaults the porch’s railing. 

Stiles hops in the car and slams the door shut, tossing Theo the car key the second he’s in the driver’s seat. 

The fire causes havoc inside the cabin. 

“What the  _ fuck _ ,” Theo asks starting the car, “was that?” 

"A demon."

Huffing out a breath, Theo throws the car in reverse. "A demon," he echoes in a mocking tone, turning the car around so quickly, Stiles' stomach lurches rather unhappily, "a fucking demon, why not?" Shaking his head, he shifts gears and puts his foot down, clearly wanting to have as much distance between them and the cabin as fast as possible. 

Stiles reaches for the car heater and turns it on high. "Yeah… just our luck, huh?" he asks, holding his hands in front of the ventilation. The air is still cool. 

Theo grabs his hand and intertwines their fingers. "Remind me to put Ouija boards on the 'over my dead body' list."

Laughing, Stiles squeezes his hand and sinks deeper into the passenger's seat. They've got a lot of explaining to do once the owner notices the state of his cabin, but coming up with excuses for that can wait. "Wasn't there a motel not too far from the woods?" Stiles asks, trying not to yawn. 

This time, Theo squeezes his hand. "Go to sleep, I'll wake you when I've found a place to stay."

Stiles hums and closes his eyes. "I love you… and thanks for putting up with me."

Theo chuckles. "I love you too."


End file.
